My most smelly job was at a kennels and cattery, and I basically spent all day scooping poop.

I used to be double-jointed in my hips, so I could put my toe in my mouth. That can't be classed as a talent really, rather a mild deformity.

I cry all the time. It's more like when didn't you cry. My friends are like, 'Oh God, she's sobbing again.' I cry if I'm happy, sad, normal... What really gets me is when I read a sad story about a child in the paper, especially at the moment with my hormones raging.

I like the idea of being a novelist. I picture myself on the coast, the wind in my hair, horses galloping around me as I sit at my typewriter in the middle of a field.

I was a barmaid for my mum for years, as we lived above a pub. I still can't hear the Heartbeat theme tune without breaking into a cold sweat, as it used to start at the same time as my shift.

The horrors of the world in general upset me. I cry when I think about how lucky I am with my lovely little family.

People expect you to be with stars like Beyoncé. Obviously she's amazing, but you can't get starstruck as there's too much build-up to it. It's like, 'Clear the corridor so she can walk down it!' And she's like some fembot. There's too much faff and you end up thinking, 'Who cares?' If I was chatting to Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall about chickens I'd be much more excited, as I love him.